Counting the Days
by kerianne
Summary: Vic was counting the days until Helena left for good. QuestionHuntress. Written for the fanfic100 challenge on Livejournal. Not actually as angsty as it sounds.


**Title:** Counting the Days  
**Author:** Kerianne  
**Pairing:** Question/Huntress  
**Author's Notes:** Kind of a missing scene for the episode "Flashpoint." Spoilers for "Question Authority." 

Vic was counting the days until Helena left for good.

Others might call it pessimism; he called it acknowledging reality. He knew perfectly well what people thought about him, what they said when they thought he wasn't listening-- that he was creepy, unpleasant to be around, and quite possibly insane. He also knew that Helena was beautiful and smart and strong, and would have no trouble at all attracting her pick of handsome, charming, socially acceptable men who didn't need to hide their faces. Logically, it followed that there was absolutely no reason for Helena to stay with him.

He was a novelty to her, nothing more. Eventually the potential for amusement in dating the resident nutjob would fade, and she'd move on. And if he'd come to care for her too deeply to accept that inevitability with grace, that was his problem. He should have known. He _had_ known.

So every time she smiled at him, every time she kissed him, every time her hands moved over his body, the thrill of happiness stirring within him was tempered with the knowledge that this would not, _could_ not last. All he could do was try to enjoy it while he had it, try not to think about the inevitable outcome.

Such thoughts had been pushed out of his mind once he'd seen the Cadmus files, the impending apocalypse being somewhat more significant than his love life. Still, after everything, after the torture and pain and delirium, as he emerged from a drug-induced haze in his hospital bed, he was surprised to find that his first thought was not "Did the world end?" but "She's gone, she must be." This ordeal had been enough to strain even the strongest of relationships-- she'd seen him at his lowest point, filthy and raving. There was no way she could still want him after that.

His second thought was that someone was sitting by his bed; his third was the realization that it was Helena, and she was furious.

"You're awake," she snapped. "Good. Now I can tell you that if you ever do that to me again, I'll kill you myself."

He squinted, trying to focus on her through the blurry film that obscured his vision. Admittedly, he was still woozy from the painkillers (not to mention the residual pain they hadn't managed to kill), but he thought her eyes looked unusually wet, and she was swiping at them with the back of her hand as if they had personally offended her.

"Helena?" he said, aware that his voice sounded terrible, weak and hoarse. "What are you doing here?"

She gave him a look so fierce that he half-expected to burst into flames. "I'm here for the lovely view," she said bitterly, punctuating her sarcasm by gesturing at the room's drab, cold furnishings. "What the fuck do you _think_ I'm doing here?"

"I--" He started to speak, but she was well into her rant now, and ignored him.

"You were so caught up in your paranoid fantasies that it never occurred to you that I might _worry_ if you ran off like that, half out of your mind? I missed three days of school for you. _Three days._" She stabbed a finger toward his face for emphasis. "It was hard enough getting a job with my reputation for unreliability-- now I don't even know if they'll take me back."

Vic was only half-listening; he was still stuck on the part where she said she was worried about him. It didn't make sense, didn't fit with the eminently logical conclusions he'd come to about their relationship.

"I thought at the very least, getting kicked out of the League would give me some free time to relax," she continued, voice rising as she approached the climax of her furious monologue. "But _no,_ instead I get to chase after my crazy boyfriend because he's decided he has a death wish!"

Vic frowned and opened his mouth to argue, despite his exhaustion. He was _not_ crazy, and he did _not_ have a death wish, and--

"Wait," he said suddenly. "Boyfriend?"

"You are an idiot, did you know that?" Helena said, eyes narrowing dangerously. "God, why do I always have to fall for the stupid ones?"

The insults went unnoticed as Vic turned this new information over in his mind. Since the moment she'd kissed him he'd been counting the days, wondering when it would all come to an end. Maybe that hadn't been the right question to ask. Maybe he'd never asked the question at all.

Looking up at Helena, seeing the fear and pain and concern-- for _him_-- hidden behind the anger in her eyes, Vic Sage found himself in the rare position of having to acknowledge that maybe, just maybe, he had been wrong.

Ignoring the pain stiffening his joints, he reached out and grabbed her hand. "You're right," he said quickly, before she could continue her tirade. "I'm sorry. And-- thank you. For everything."

Her face registered surprise-- she'd obviously been expecting a fight, not an apology-- then softened into a slight smile. "Of course, baby doll. You think I'm going to let anyone push you around? That's _my_ job."

He was still holding her hand when the doctors entered in a rush of activity. She squeezed his hand and reluctantly stood to leave them to their work. "I'll be back," she promised.

"I know," he said, and smiled a secret smile behind his mask.

**end.**


End file.
